13. The Battle of Baligsmere

All over the clearing, creatures clambered to their feet at the sound of the trumpet and shivered in the cold, early-morning light. There was no time to light the fire again but Elyon had provided breakfast and Katy and Simon warmed themselves at the dragon’s brazier of hot coals while they were eating theirs.
Not much later, the trumpet sounded again and a great red standard, bearing a golden faun, was raised into the air over by the trees. ‘Prepare to march,’ cried Elyon. And, everywhere, the creatures stopped whatever they were doing and began to form themselves into ranks. Soon, all were ready — except for the black bears and Brym. The bears were still trying to lick their breakfast honey from their paws and Brym, who had got hiccups from bolting his breakfast coals, was trying to stop them by drinking from the wrong side of Carmel Pool.
Then Elyon looked to the mountains, lit by the rising sun. ‘Pendallyn,’ he cried. ‘Timbletop, Ashron, Stribbers, High Westring, Lodestrid, Cumberfell. Come! Join us!’ And down from their homes came the mighty oreads — the spirits of the mountains. They dwarfed even Olrik and the giants, so huge were they. Their hair was snow, their faces were of slate and granite, and their eyes were deep, brown pools. They were clothed in grass and moss. Silently, they moved to the rear of the column and then, with one, great, gravelly voice, they said, ‘We are ready, Master.’
‘Now, Sylvi-cembra-candestra-didendi,’ cried Elyon. And down from the mountains came the firkins, the spirits of the Great Pines.
‘Carmella,’ cried Elyon. And out of Carmel Pool sprang a glorious naiad — which gave Brym a great shock and finally stopped his hiccups! She was tall and silver and shimmered in the sunlight, and her hair was like fronds of pondweed.
‘Elyon, my Lord, I come’ she sang. And her voice was like the bubbling of a crystal stream.
‘Welcome, Daughter,’ said Elyon. ‘Welcome, all of you — Now, forward!’ And the army began to move. Keeping to the west bank of the river, they marched towards Kinder Chase and were soon deep among its trees. And as they went on, through that day and the next and the day after that, their company grew. Dryads joined them — the spirits of the beech trees in bright green, oak-men in dark brown, larch-maidens in yellow, holly-men in dark green and bright crimson. Other naiads leapt from the springs they crossed and the pools they passed, and danced around Elyon before entering the ranks behind him. Breathborn birds and beasts from the forest enlisted themselves — owls, woodpeckers, blackbirds, robins, thrushes, squirrels, badgers, boars and deer. Woodland dwarfs, hearing the tramp of feet above their heads, came out of their underground caves and tunnels. Seeing Elyon, they gave a great cheer, shouldered their picks and axes, and joined the march. And small black-haired fauns appeared from among the trees, bowed low to Elyon, and entered the line.
Early in the morning, on the fourth day after leaving Carmel Pool, the company emerged from the forest of Kinder Chase. By then, the army had grown to be many hundreds strong. When it had crossed over the Rainbow Bridge to the east bank of the Fleet at the southern end of Baligsmere, Elyon called a halt.
‘In just a little while, we shall see our common foe,’ he said. ‘But do not attack. First, we shall parley. It may be that they will lay down their arms and surrender. And if so, we shall treat them with courtesy. Obey Olrik in all things. And be strong and of good courage.’
The army moved forward once again and soon it was approaching two wooded hills between which their path lay. And there, at the end of the valley, was the opposing army — rank upon rank of monstrous stoats, weasels, foxes, polecats, giants from Farthing Edge, grey dwarfs, wolves, hyenas, jackals, coyotes, ferrets, rats and mink. Out in front of it was Morlok himself, and on his shoulder perched Roken, the raven.
You might think that the very sight of Olrik’s army would have been sufficient to cause Morlok’s troops to take to their heels, but it was not. For a start, they could not see the dragon because Olrik had commanded him to keep to the ground since they entered Kinder Chase and had kept him hidden in the ranks. And, although Olrik’s forces were large and contained other creatures (like the manticore), who were quite as fearsome as the dragon, the army, looked upon as a whole, did not appear very threatening. Indeed, the sheer beauty and colourfulness of the oreads and naiads and dryads made it look more like a carnival parade than an enemy force. But it was not only that. Without telling them exactly what it was, Morlok had told his troops of his secret weapon, and they firmly believed that, once it was revealed, Olrik’s army would simply be wiped out of existence.
Olrik raised his arm and Elyon’s forces came to a halt.
‘Now is your moment, Simon,’ said Elyon. ‘I have told you what you must say. Go and deliver our terms to General Morlok.’
Simon stepped forward, feeling very lonely and afraid. With all eyes upon him, he walked through the valley until he was face to face with the wolf himself and with Roken, still perched on the wolf’s shoulder.
‘Elyon, King of Kings and Son of Heseth, greets Morlok, self-styled Father Protector of the Bestial Republic of Shalanor,’ he said. And as he spoke he felt courage and authority flow into him. ‘For to prevent much dolour, sore hurt and mortification, this same Elyon beseecheth thee and all who serve under thee forthwith to surrender thy persons into his hands and to avail thyself of his benevolent mercies and fairest grace. In consideration thereof, and of thy yielded homage and fealty to the damosel Emeline, rightful Queen of Shalanor, Empress of the Isles of Mist and Lady of Arwendal Keep, it is his good pleasure to offer thee and thy followers pardon and peace and his sufferance of thy continued habitation of these his realms of Shalanor. He says thee sooth. How sayest thou, Morlok? Wilt thou accept?’
‘Accept!’ Morlok spat the word at Simon. ‘Go tell Elyon this. I do utterly reject and spurn his offer. Tell him that I care nothing for Heseth and even less for a malformed goat who claims to be his son. Tell him that he has already sealed his fate by coming here and that he and his army are doomed. Tell him that I, Morlok, am Lord of Shalanor and will remain so.’
‘That’s right, you tell him,’ croaked Roken.
The General looked contemptuously at Simon. ‘Now go,’ he said. ‘The parley is over.’ And the wolf turned his back on him.
Simon walked back to Elyon and reported what Morlok had said.
‘It is as I feared,’ said Elyon. ‘Well, Olrik. The army is yours. Give your orders — and let the battle commence.’
Olrik raised his sword high in the air. ‘Brym,’ he called. ‘Let the blast of your nostrils throw them into disarray. The rest of you, unsheathe your weapons and prepare for combat. Now! Forward!’
Brym rose in the air and a howl of dismay went up from Morlok’s troops as they saw the dragon swoop towards them. Many threw themselves to the ground to try and avoid the scorching flames which they expected to burst from him. But nothing happened! And after a moment or two they raised their heads, then scrambled back to their feet and began to jeer. For, much to Brym’s shame, all that was coming from his nostrils was steam. In trying to cure his hiccups by drinking from Carmel Pool, the dragon had quenched his fire and was no longer a threat to anyone — certainly not to the enemy forces!
But now Olrik and his followers were upon the jeering horde. Sword clashed with sword. Clubs met shields. And soon the air was filled with the shouts and cries of battle. Then, from the tree-covered hilltops on either side of the valley, poured more of Morlok’s troops, cutting off any retreat by Olrik’s forces and attacking his army from the rear. But they made little difference. The oreads turned and, like landslides, fell upon the foe and engulfed it. The dryads, though weaponless, wrapped themselves around Morlok’s troops who found themselves caught up in branches and blinded by foliage. The naiads, too, moved among the enemy, turning to marsh and bog the ground beneath their feet. And, all the while, the woodland dwarfs wielded their axes and picks among the foe. The mice scampered among the trampling feet, jabbing with their swords at calves and ankles and causing many a follower of Morlok to drop his weapon and fall to the ground in pain. The horses and donkeys and deer kicked and trampled. The manticore stung with his tail. The elephants coiled their trunks around their enemies and hurled them through the air. The birds flew into their faces, pecking and scratching. And the boars gored them with their tusks and Xanthus with his bright, new horn.
Soon, victory for Olrik seemed secure and Morlok’s troops faltered. Then, taking their dead and wounded with them, they began to retreat in disarray. Seeing them run, the cyclops ordered his troops to put up their weapons and to fall in behind him. ‘You are defeated, Morlok,’ he called. ‘Do you now surrender?’
‘Defeated?’ snarled Morlok. ‘Defeated am I? We shall see about that!’ And, from his jacket, he withdrew the small, glass bottle, removed its cork and threw it to the ground in front of Olrik. ‘Destroy my enemies, Sammael’s Bane,’ he cried.
For a moment, nothing happened, then there oozed from the bottle a black vapour, like smoke. It gathered, expanded, and rose in the air, forming once again the loathsome cloud of darkness which Morlok had seen at Sammael Deep. And, as Olrik and his army watched with growing horror, it thickened and spread itself wider and wider until it had blotted out the sun. Then, within it, shapes began to form. The shapes developed limbs and heads. And the heads developed eyes and noses and mouths and fangs. Finally, with cries and shrieks which made the blood of Olrik’s army run cold, the host of spectres, grikes, demons, hags and other evils, swooped down upon Olrik and his followers.
Within moments, the gloom which surrounded everyone was filled with scaly wings, clawing talons, biting fangs, and foul stenches. No one could see his neighbour and all were seized with terror as they fought for their lives.
Morlok and his host cheered with delight, while the children, standing with Elyon on a grassy knoll, could do nothing but watch in horror.
‘Oh Elyon, do something. Please!’ cried Katy and turned towards the faun. But, at that moment, a baltrig — a hideous thing of hair and slime, huge and black as night — its attention drawn by the sound of Katy’s voice or maybe by the sound of the name she had spoken — broke from the mass and snatched up Katy in its talons.
‘Simon!’ she screamed in terror. ‘Simon! Help me!’
For what seemed like an eternity, Simon found himself rooted to the spot, watching helplessly as his sister was carried off into the fray. Then, with a great cry, he pulled his sword from its scabbard and hurled himself into the writhing cloud of darkness.
In front of him reared a grike, hissing and spitting, its eyes bloodshot, its hands reaching for his throat. Without pausing for thought, Simon plunged his sword between its ribs and leaped over the creature as it fell, then pressed on in the direction of Katy’s screams. The claw-like hand of a hag fastened itself on his shoulder and he turned, striking out again. From either side of him, furies leaped at him, howling. At a blow, he severed the head of the one to his right, but the one at his left sank yellow fangs into his arm before he could drive his sword into its heart. Though now in pain, and with blood pouring from his wound, he fought on, cutting a swathe through the foe, until there, in front of him, was the vile thing that was bearing Katy away.
‘Stop!’ he half-cried, half- sobbed; and he ran towards the creature, his sword lifted high.
The baltrig paused and slowly turned. Seeing Simon approaching, it laughed — a cold, splintering laugh that sounded like breaking ice — and threw Katy to the ground. Then it leaped at Simon. And it would surely have made an end of him had he not stumbled and fallen. As it was, the thing landed on his upturned sword and, with a scream, fell lifeless at Simon’s side.
Scrambling back to his feet, Simon dragged his sword from the creature’s breast, then watched in fascinated horror as the thing began to lose all shape and turn into a black, foul-smelling slime that slowly seeped into the ground and vanished, leaving no trace.
Pushing his hair from his eyes, and starting to tremble now with shock and pain and exhaustion, Simon returned the sword to its scabbard, picked up his sister and staggered back with her to Elyon, who was still standing where they had left him. ‘I was too late,’ he said, shaking his head in despair. ‘I think — I think she’s dead.’
‘No!’ said the faun. ‘You were not too late.’ He gently took Katy from Simon’s arms and laid her on the grass. ‘She is not harmed,’ he said. ‘She has only fainted. Look, she is already awakening from her sleep.’
Katy’s eyelids flickered and opened. Seeing Elyon’s face above her, she sighed and gave a contented smile, but then she turned her head and saw Simon. Her eyes took in his ashen face, his trembling frame and the blood-soaked sleeve of his tunic, and, appalled, she struggled to her feet and made to go to him. ‘Simon!’ she cried. ‘Oh, Simon. You’re hurt!’
‘Hush, little one,’ said Elyon, catching Katy and holding her back. ‘Leave your brother to me. All will be will. Do not fear. He has fought valiantly and saved your life; but his wound pains him and he is very weary.’ The faun gently took Simon’s wounded arm in his left hand and laid his right hand on Simon’s brow. ‘Shantara kara vashtati,’ he said softly in some strange tongue. ‘Be healed.’ And then, releasing the boy, he breathed on him.
As Katy and the faun watched, they saw Simon cease to tremble and the colour begin to flood back into his face. ‘Crumbs,’ he said, his mouth breaking into a smile. ‘I was feeling rotten but I feel a lot better now.’
‘And your arm?’ asked Elyon.
Simon lifted it, flexed it, then pulled back his sleeve. There was not even a mark to show where the werewolf had bitten him. ‘It’s fine,’ he said wonderingly. ‘That’s amazing. It doesn’t even hurt anymore!’
‘I make all things new,’ said the faun. Then he turned from Simon and Katy and looked to where the cloud of darkness still enveloped Olrik’s army. ‘It is enough,’ he said, and walking forward into the empty space between the two armies, he raised his golden pipes to his lips and began to play.
At first it seemed that the melody was changing nothing; then, one by one, the foul creatures began to detach themselves from their victims and to fall upon Elyon. It was as if the sweet music maddened them to even greater fury. Soon he was invisible — lost in the heart of the great cloud of darkness and evil that had descended upon him. But still the sweet music filled the air. Then the melody changed. It became stronger, more imperious, coercive. And the cloud began to shrink and thin. Soon, the children began to catch glimpses of Elyon in the midst — a hoof, an arm, a flash of his golden hair. And, at last, they could see the whole of him, upright and unscathed, as the last of the horrors disappeared, screaming and shrieking, into his golden pipes. Then the faun turned and faced Morlok, who was now shaking with rage and terror.
‘Foolish creature,’ said Elyon. ‘Did you really think that such shadows were any threat to me? I have swallowed whole kingdoms of darkness before breakfast. I have tasted death itself.’ His tail swished to and fro. ‘Now, what shall I do with you? Will you even now repent and give me your allegiance?’
‘I will die first,’ snarled Morlok.
‘And what of your followers?’ asked Elyon. He looked beyond the wolf to where the defeated troops were huddled in small groups. ‘Who will return to me?’ he cried. ‘Who will yet have me as his rightful Lord?’
There was a great deal of muttering and jostling; then, to the jeers of the remaining forces, two giants stepped forward. They were followed by a lynx, five grey dwarfs, a stoat, two weasels, a large alsatian and three cats. As they passed Morlok, he turned on them, snarling, and Roken flew at one of the giants, pecking at his eyes; but they side-stepped the wolf, and the giant knocked Roken to the ground. Then they came on until they stood in front of Elyon. Others, taking courage at their example, ran forward and joined them. The giants got to their knees and those behind them did the same. The lynx acted as their spokesperson.
‘We yield, Lord Elyon,’ he said. ‘We throw ourselves on your mercy. For our rebellion and our misdoings we are heartily sorry. We do now repent and acknowledge thee as our rightful Lord. Do with us as thou wilt.’
Elyon placed his right hand on the head of the lynx. ‘Arise,’ he cried. ‘Arise, all of you. And accept my forgiveness and my love!’ Then he turned to the dryads. ‘Make garlands for them,’ he said. ‘Deck them with flowers!’
‘I say, that’s a bit much,’ muttered a stag who had come to stand and watch from close by the children. He had joined the army as it had passed through Kinder Chase and had fought hard and valiantly in the battle. One of his antlers was broken and he was flecked with foam. ‘No garlands for us, I notice. Yet look at what we’ve just been through.’
Elyon must have overheard him, for he came over to the stag. ‘Felgrim,’ he said. ‘Oh, Felgrim. You have always served me faithfully, and you have all my love and thanks. Soon, I will attend to your hurts and I myself will garland you. But this lynx, these giants, these dwarfs — all who have come over from Morlok’s side — they were dead to me but now they are alive again. They were lost to me but now they are found. It is right that we should give them a special welcome.’
Then he turned back to Morlok. ‘But you — wicked and rebellious wolf. You will not come to me for life — nor will those who cower behind you. You have chosen death, so death you will have. You called on Sammael, so to Sammael you shall go. Depart from me — and from Shalanor — forever!’ He struck the ground with his hoof and a huge crack opened up under Morlok and the remains of his army. With a great howl, the wolf vanished into it, along with his followers, and then, as quickly as it had opened, the crack closed and all was very still. Only one of Roken’s black tail-feathers remained, fluttering in the breeze.
Katy began to cry quietly. ‘Oh, Elyon,’ she said. ‘That was horrid. Couldn’t you have made them choose you?’
‘Made them?’ said Elyon. ‘No, child, I can make no one choose me. To do so would be to deny my very being, for I am freedom itself. And I give freedom; I never take it away.’ He put an arm around Katy’s shoulders. ‘Now, child, dry your eyes. Look! An old friend is coming to join us.’ He pointed to a speck in the clear sky to the south.
‘Oh!’ cried Katy, sniffing and smiling at the same time. ‘Oh, it’s Aquila! He said we would see him again.’